


Fatal Regrets

by darth_healer



Category: Naruto
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-12-19 11:59:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11897301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darth_healer/pseuds/darth_healer
Summary: Itachi has a lot of regrets, but he will always love his little brother.





	Fatal Regrets

**Author's Note:**

> So this is just a re-telling of the fight between Sasuke and Itachi. I wanted to write it from Itachi's perspective because for some reason I just love to do that. If you don't like rehashes of canon, please don't read this. I also wanted to play around a little bit with present tense because I usually write in past tense and I wanted to step out of my comfort zone a little bit.

Itachi is filled with panic. Sasuke is so close he can feel it. Kisame is waiting for Sasuke just outside the Uchiha hideout. He will make sure Team Taka does not follow their leader inside.

But that does little to assuage Itachi’s frayed nerves.

Itachi reaches up and touches the skin of his neck, fingers grazing against his Adam’s apple. He can feel a tickle there, a cough he’s suppressed times to be able to do it well now. He swallows, feeling the lump move down the column of his throat. He should reach into his pocket and pull out his translucent orange pill bottle. He should dry swallow the last pill inside and alleviate the irritation in his throat, the burning sensation in his lungs.

But in a matter of hours it won’t matter anymore.

Sasuke’s chakra signature is strong and with it are three others, also strong. Itachi wonders if Sasuke loves these three people, if they are close enough to replace the family Itachi stole from him. It’s hard to imagine how someone could replace Mikoto and her milky skin and the way she used to reach into her pocket and fish out some rice crackers for the two of them when they were mere toddlers. It is hard to imagine Sasuke replacing Fugaku, whose pride in his younger son was so bright that it could have washed out the sun.

If Itachi knew how to replace them, he would have. He would have met whatever condition needed to be met, sacrificed whatever he had to in order to replace them or bring them back to Sasuke. How could Sasuke grow into the powerful Uchiha he was meant to be without the guidance of the two strongest Uchiha he knew?

No, all Sasuke has is Itachi – a miserable substitution. Although it is feasible that Sasuke won’t think so. Sasuke had always looked up to Itachi in a way Itachi didn’t feel like he deserved. Perhaps they could talk things over and reconcile their differences. Perhaps Sasuke could know the truth and it wouldn’t hinder him but help him.

It is too late to be thinking that way, though. Sasuke is coming. He is so close. It will be a matter of minutes before he arrives and then Itachi will have to fight him. He doesn’t want to do this, but it is his only option. It will assure him that Sasuke can handle whatever comes his way after Itachi’s death.

Though Itachi is no longer so sure that he is the more powerful of the two living Uchihas. After all, he is very sick.

Itachi lifts his arm and coughs into his sleeve, leaving specks of blood along the white stitching around the telltale red clouds. He wants to shrug out of the cloak and cast it onto the floor, but he is cold so he keeps it on. Perhaps he will take it off when his battle with Sasuke heats up. Then he will feel like Itachi again.

He feels sort of like Itachi now, his back pressed against the stone chair inside the Uchiha hideout. It is dark in here; he can barely see without his Sharingan activated. But there is a familiarity in the darkness, a comfort in the dusty walls of his clan’s secrets. He wishes Sasuke wasn’t so close yet so he could stay here for just a while longer and meditate.

Team Taka is close now. Itachi hears their voices outside, straining to make out the familiar syllables of words in the incoherent voices. Kisame’s deep baritone replies – something Itachi cannot catch. There is clang of metal, sword against sword. They continue speaking. They are not fighting.

Itachi pictures Sasuke’s face, the disapproving frown that is sure to be there now. How often that face was pulled into a pout, Itachi could never forget. Itachi likes to believe he could pull that pout out of Sasuke now if he tried.

It had not taken much when they were younger to turn Sasuke’s expression from wide-eyed wonder to a bitter sulk. Itachi remembers so clearly how Sasuke would tug on his shirt and beg to train with him. His pale, always slightly sticky hands would fist into the fabric of his shirt, trying to pull himself up to Itachi’s hip though his actions only served to pull Itachi downwards.

Itachi had always brushed off that behavior. He did not want to encourage that kind of begging.

If he could go back in time now, Itachi would forget about the lesson on begging and give Sasuke exactly what he wanted. He would place a kunai in that sticky palm and show him exactly how to throw it, to embed it in its target.

Sasuke is surely adept at throwing kunai now, but Itachi wishes he had been the one to teach him how to throw them. He wishes there were more memories because that is the one thing he never had enough of: time. Time with Sasuke, specifically. Why had he brushed off so many of his brother’s attempts to spend time with him?

He knows why. He was afraid back then. It had hurt too much to think of Sasuke as a shinobi, as a person who would eventually become a ninja and take dangerous missions. He was a moony-faced baby with a mop of dark hair and chunky thighs. He didn’t belong on assassination missions. He shouldn’t fight in wars or do Konoha’s dirty work.

But Itachi’s fears had worked against him. Sasuke is still a shinobi – though he does not do Konoha’s dirty work. Not now, anyway.

The door opens and Itachi looks up. Sasuke is standing there. Itachi’s breath catches in his throat. He needs to cough again, but he will not let that be the first thing Sasuke hears from his estranged brother.

They stare at one another – too long for it to be appropriate. Sasuke is dressed in a long, dark cloak, his forehead covered by bandages. His hair is longer now. He is so tall. His skin is fairer than is healthy, but the glint in his eyes, the crimson irises and their stark, black tomoe… Itachi cannot look away from him. He does not want to. This will be it. Once they begin to fight – he can see Sasuke is already itching to attack him – Itachi will no longer be able to look so openly, to soak in the appearance of the last precious thing that exists on this planet.

He needs to say something. He has to antagonize because that it what he has made himself out to be now. This fight is necessary no matter how much Itachi longs to crush his baby brother into a hug and spill the truth to him. This is the only way he knows to bring peace to him.

But he is also curious and he cannot help it. “What can you see” he asks, surprised by the steadiness in his voice, “with those Sharingan of yours?”

Sasuke chuckles and it is a dark sound. It grates Itachi’s ears. It hurts to listen to such a bitter sound. “What I see,” he replies with an equally steady voice – one laced with arrogance, but perhaps one that had been earned, “is you, dead at my feet.”

Itachi wants to nod because he sees that, too, wishes for it all the same. It feels strange to be united over this fact, this morbid and terrifying notion that Itachi’s death will somehow fix everything and cure Sasuke’s broken heart.

They both know this isn’t true, but today is a mixture of fantasy and nightmare so Itachi chooses to believe that it’s true. This is the last fantasy he will indulge in. It is the last nightmare he will have to live through.

“You see me dead, do you?” Itachi asks, indulging Sasuke as well. Sasuke wants this fight – this is his fantasy. Itachi can allow him to have that, a sordid way to make up for all those times he brushed Sasuke aside. He urges Sasuke to make it happen. It is a fantasy for him, too, he can admit. He wants to see what Sasuke can do, what Kakashi and Orochimaru and all the opponents he has ever faced have taught him.

He wants Sasuke to make the first move, but he cannot resist. He attacks. The clang of metal rings out in the hollowness of the hideout. The stone reflects the sounds back toward them as they continue to block and dodge and attack one another. If Mikoto and Fugaku could see them now, what would they think? Would they accept Itachi’s inevitable death? Would they cheer on their youngest son, even at the expense of their eldest?

Sasuke is fast, Itachi notices. But he is also frantic. He has waited a long time for this moment and here it is. But Itachi has waited, too, and he is not so frenzied. He feels the wildness of his nerves and the fluctuating pains in his chest still, but he forces himself to remain calm, to logically think about his next moves.

Itachi is not inexperienced with fighting people he does not wish to harm. He has been doing this for many years now. He knows how to manipulate his opponents, trick them into trying to flee or perhaps escaping himself.

But Sasuke will not flee and neither will Itachi. This will be the first time Itachi stays until one of them is dead. And he will make sure that it is not Sasuke.

Sasuke leaps back away from him and pauses. His face is marred by anger and hysteria. Itachi knows whatever attempt he makes to soothe those feelings will only exacerbate them. He wishes he could pause time and freeze Sasuke where he stood so he could press his fingers into the skin of his face, rearranging his mouth into a smile, his eyes into the look of wonder they had always held when he had been a young child. This was not his little brother. This was not his Sasuke.

A flurry of hand signs catches Itachi’s attention. He is easily able to catch them with his Sharingan. He is surprised, but only just so. Chidori. Kakashi taught him that.

It is a distraction from his real attack. Sasuke is quick and he uses it to his advantage. He runs a sword through Itachi’s body, a murderous look in his eye. He is so fast, Itachi thinks.

“You’ve grown quite strong,” Itachi says. He cannot resist.

“Listen to me,” Sasuke says. His tone is quiet and soft and it breaks Itachi’s heart. “I have one last thing to ask of you.”

Itachi reaches up with two fingers. He wants to poke Sasuke’s forehead – it is both antagonistic and affectionate. Sasuke will not recognize that, but Itachi feels some comfort in the gesture. But his fingers do not reach and he has already moved on anyway. He watches Sasuke glance between him and his clone still on the ground at Sasuke’s feet.

“What do you want to know?” he asks Sasuke.

Sasuke attacks again, another run through with his sword. This seems to be his favored method, Itachi thinks. He is determined to kill him with the length of his blade. But no. He missed any vital spot. He had not intended to kill just yet.

Sasuke speaks again. The pain in Itachi’s chest grows and for a moment he cannot breath, cannot hear Sasuke over the blood rushing in his ears. He catches bits and pieces. Sasuke wants to know the third Uchiha who managed to unlock their Eternal Mangekyou Sharingan.

Itachi is hurt, but he knows this is unreasonable. Sasuke would not want to play catch up with the man who murdered his entire family. He has no sentimental question for him, no twisted reasoning for the terrible events that unfolded all those years ago.

Instead, he asks about what Itachi gave him that night – the promise of strength and power born from their kekkei genkai, blood that now only the two of them have.

“Why are you curious about such a thing?” Itachi asks.

“Because I’m going to kill him after I kill you.”

“Kill him?” Itachi asks. He is surprised again, but he does not show it. Sasuke knows Itachi did not commit the massacre on his own. Itachi is not the only man he needs to kill to enact his revenge.

“Who is it?” Sasuke asks. Itachi remains silent for a moment. Sasuke pushes the blade deeper into his flesh.

“Madara Uchiha.”

Sasuke is surprised. Itachi can hear his sharp intake of breath. He explains who Madara is. Sasuke likely knew this already, but Itachi cannot help that he wants to prolong the inevitable. It is human nature to cling to life.

Sasuke is incredulous. He does not believe Madara is still alive and Itachi cannot blame him for this. Quickly, Itachi makes something up, something off the cuff to say. Sasuke has chosen his reality, but he has chosen wrong. Madara is alive – he can believe this or not. It is not fair to tease Sasuke like this, but it is so refreshing to hear his voice. These are the last things Itachi will hear Sasuke say.

“We each live in our own fantasies, don’t you agree, Sasuke?” he asks. “For instance, you once believed I was your kind, gentle older brother.”

Itachi does not wince as he says these words. They are very true, but they are also not true and Itachi is the only one who understands this. He feels the weight of his decisions, the zigzagging line of shinobi ethics that was blurred so much it resembles a vast, turbulent river. There is no black, no white. There is no wrong and no right. There is only the greyness of rushing water.

“I played a part,” Itachi continued. His heart continues to break – he is sure he cannot take much more. “I wanted to see how powerful you could become.”

Sasuke vents. He is upset. Itachi hear the words, accepts them and is soothed by them, but he does not understand them. They float around his head, desperate to be understood, but Itachi is willfully ignorant now. He will not listen, will not endure that pain again.

But then Sasuke talks about his eyes, his confidence in their ability to see through genjutsu. Itachi hears the chirping of Chidori again. For now, he will allow Sasuke this. He will see if Sasuke’s confidence is deserved.

He can already see it is not. Sasuke does not have Mangekyou. He did not follow instructions. He did not kill Naruto.

“So you couldn’t do it, huh? You couldn’t kill your best friend?” The words sting as they leave his mouth. They hurt to hear more than anything Sasuke could have said to him. Itachi reminds himself this cruelty is necessary, but with death looming so closely behind him, he is no longer convicted in this.

Sasuke is unfazed. His sharp tongue provokes, taunts. Itachi does not like to admit that he enjoys this part of Sasuke. He enjoys any part of Sasuke that is not in pain. It is easy to enjoy such things while they feel each other out with their genjutsus. They are only warming up, but Itachi feels them edging up on the inevitable.

Itachi explains more about the Mangekyou and his blindness. This is one thing they have left to bond over, even if it is done in hatred. They will always be brothers, always be tied by their powerful blood. The Uchiha secrets are the last vestiges of a bond between them. Perhaps Sasuke will remember him fondly, but Itachi’s ties will be severed by death. These are his final memories and he will make them count as best he can.

They discuss Madara and how he used his eyes to tame the Nine Tails. Itachi hopes they can just speak forever and never have to end this conversation. If only he can keep talking, he can live an eternity in these words and find infinity in the depths of Sasuke’s eyes. If he does not look away, Sasuke cannot vanish.

Sasuke does not ask why Itachi is so forthcoming with this information. He does not seem so volatile now. He is curious and it reminds Itachi of when they were children.

Itachi sates this curiosity. He keeps his tone neutral as he explains the history of the Uchiha clan. Perhaps Sasuke takes comfort in the sounds of his older brother’s voice. Perhaps he is not so damaged that he cannot still feel the bond they have, in spite of Itachi’s determination to sever it.

Sasuke listens with rapt attention. Itachi wishes he had more pleasant things to say. He is ashamed by the darkness of his own clan and sad that it is also Sasuke’s to share. They are powerful and their name has weight, but those things did not come free. They are both paying the price for it now.

It hurts to speak about Madara and Izuna. Itachi does not want to see the parallels between them. They are excruciating. He lifts his hand to Sasuke’s face, framing the pads of his fingers around his left eye. “Forgive me,” he says, but he does not mean it. He does not deserve forgiveness for anything he’s done and he does not really want to take Sasuke’s eyes. He only wants him to understand.

Itachi continues to recount the history of the founders, of Konoha. He is not stupid and he sees the parallels between Madara and Hashirama and Sasuke and Naruto. He knows Sasuke must see them, too. He explains the creation of Akatsuki and it feels good to speak these truths, even if they are only a smaller part of the whole. They are better than the lies.

He waxes poetic still, enraptured by the sound of his own voice. Itachi rarely did much speaking – he had no one to speak to. He will be more powerful than Madara, he says, and he believes that could have been true, even without the aid of Sasuke’s eyes. But that is the narrative he needs to push, so he boasts instead. He will take Sasuke’s eyes. He will gain Eternal Mangekyou Sharingan.

‘I will always be there for you, even if it’s just as an obstacle for you to overcome.’ The words echo in Itachi’s heads. This is the best way for Itachi to be Sasuke’s brother now. It did not feel good to press this hatred into Sasuke, to pretend their bond meant nothing but a means to obtain power. That couldn’t be farther from the truth.

It should have hurt Sasuke to hear those things, but he only seemed unimpressed. He reaches a hand up to unravel the bandages around his face. The white strip of fabric coiled at his feet. Next, he untied his cloak and tossed it aside, too. He has renewed resolve to kill, Itachi sees. He is grateful for this.

“You cannot best me,” Itachi says. It is another taunt. “Not while I have these eyes.”

Sasuke is calm as he unravels the bandages around his arms next. “I can best you,” Sasuke argues. “That is reality.”

Another clash of metal rings out sharply, reverberating against the stone. They are attacking one another again now, shuriken flying, blurs of arms and feet. It is intense and Itachi does not pretend that he is not enjoying it. He is a man of peace, but he was born and bred for this and he feels it in his blood.

They reach a stalemate as Itachi blocks a melee attack and holds Sasuke’s arm. His skin feels warm under his palm. He schools his expression to be stony and purposeful, but inside he wants to cry. He grips Sasuke’s arm harder, ignoring the look of horror on his little brother’s face. Looking at him directly is like staring into the sun. He cannot do it; he must look away.

Itachi attacks again, weaving signs unseen for a shadow clone. Sasuke is taken back by this and Itachi is thrilled by his shock, but also a little disappointed by it. His kunai are blocked by some snakelike tendril that emerges from Sasuke’s skin, some machination from his days with Orochimaru. Itachi wants to spit the bitterness out of his mouth, but it will not help.

Itachi is grateful when that thing recedes, making way for Sasuke to throw a larger shuriken at him. He is able to block it with the kunai still clutched in his fingers. A tingle of electricity surges into his arm. Sasuke had laced his attack with Chidori – a feat that impresses Itachi. It is a clever use of his talents.

But it is not enough to defeat him. Itachi breaks free from Sasuke’s attack and attacks again, aiming a kick to Sasuke’s stomach. Itachi felt it as sharply as if he had been kicked himself. He is able to prevent Sasuke’s next attack as his pins his appendages back to the cracked stone behind him.

Again Itachi reaches for Sasuke’s eye. He must encourage him to fight harder, to be ruthless. It is the only thing that will protect him in the future. Sasuke shows an appropriate amount of horror. He gapes at the blood on his palm.

But he shows resolve again. Itachi watches the lines of Orochimaru’s curse mark smoke across Sasuke’s face. This will not do, he thinks. Sasuke is an Uchiha – he does not need that abomination in him. Itachi watches as Sasuke continues to struggle under his genjutsu, his Tsukuyomi – a power Sasuke is no stranger to. Sasuke falls to his knees, his breath shallow.

But it only takes a few seconds for him to break it. Itachi is shocked. Sasuke is much stronger, much more clever than Itachi had given him credit for. He feels renewed pride in his younger brother. Itachi clutches at his eye, momentarily blinded by the sharp pain. His eyes are reaching their limit.

He has some tricks left, though. He cannot let Sasuke leave here without seeing the true potential of his eyes. Deftly, he weaves a few hand signs. If Sasuke could break through Tsukuyomi, there was no point in trying to continue this battle with genjustsu.

Before Itachi could finish his signs, Sasuke launches another shuriken at him. Of course he wouldn’t want Itachi to complete his hand signs. Itachi drops his hands to his sides and leaps in the air to avoid the shuriken.

Too late, he realizes that Sasuke had accounted for this, rigging his shuriken with a strand of his Chidori’s lightning. Itachi winces and crashes to the stone beneath him. Another surge of pride fills him, marred only by the manic arrogance Sasuke was displaying now. He had not won yet.

He peers at Sasuke, squinting through the pain in his eyes. His vision is worsening – he has to strain hard to see a blurred Sasuke standing before him.

“Feeling the aftereffects of the Tsukuyomi?” Sasuke teased. It was refreshing to be teased, Itachi thought.

Itachi does not respond, but Sasuke does not wait for him to. Instead, he launches a fireball toward him. It sends a pang of nostalgia ripping through Itachi’s chest. He could recall the first fireball jutsu he had ever cast. He had stood so proudly beside his father and produced a fireball large enough to surprise Fugaku. It wouldn’t be the last time Itachi surprised his father.

Itachi dodges the fireball and allows Sasuke to use his Chidori to burst them both through the ceiling before he counters with a fireball of his own. It feels good to expel the hot air from his lungs, to produce a fireball like the one he had shown to his father nearly two decades ago.

Sasuke is badly burned now. Itachi can smell the burning flesh from where he stands. He can see the curse marks still spiraling around Sasuke’s face.

In perfect synchronization, they cast fireball jutsus again, the flames battling for dominance between their bodies. Itachi is in pain again. He can feel blood dripping from his eye. It will soon be useless to him so he feels no desire to protect himself from the pain of using Amaterasu. He opens his eye and releases the black flames. They lick away at Sasuke’s orange fire, eating it until nothing remains between them – no heat, no fire, not even anger now.

Itachi’s right eye is shut and Sasuke is too far away from him to see clearly. Even so, Itachi feels Sasuke run toward him, senses it with his chakra. Again, he opens his eye to allow the black flames to escape, this time with Sasuke’s horrid curse wing as their target. 

Sasuke cries as the flames lick away at him. It must be painful, but it is necessary. Slowly, Itachi walks toward Sasuke. This will be his gift to him, the last one he gives before his life is taken. He will undo the damage Orochimaru has done to his brother.

He crouches down to Sasuke’s quivering body. He is face down against the stone. His hair, matted with blood and sweat and dirt, still looks soft. It reminds Itachi of Mikoto’s hair – the same shade of black, much cooler in tone than his own hair. He longs to reach out and touch it, but when his fingers come close, Sasuke’s body vanishes.

Again Sasuke has shown his cleverness. He is hiding underground now; Itachi can feel it. His chakra is darker, malevolent. It is the curse mark changing him. Itachi glances around him with his good eye. The black flames of his Amaterasu are still burning. He is getting tired. He needs to cough, but now is not the time.

He feels it again, a burgeoning chakra underneath him. Flames shoot up from the stone – Sasuke’s fire dragon jutsu. Itachi rolls back away from it, righting himself before the flames dissipate. He cannot keep the small smirk from his face. He is impressed.

They are both panting now. Itachi is not the only one exhausted. Itachi is proud of his brother, but he also feels a surge of pride in himself. He is strong enough to stand against Sasuke even in his sickness. He will lose this battle, but if he were not sick he could win. He is both elated and depressed by this thought.

“Those black flames,” Sasuke says, “they took a lot out of you.” He is still crouched, still panting.

Itachi, too, is crouched down. He does not want to chance a look at Sasuke’s face just yet, but he can feel his brother’s diminishing chakra. His curse mark is receding again. He does not have much strength left – he has been pushed to his limit.

The sky darkens as Itachi waits for Sasuke to attack again. He feels raindrops against the back of his head, but he does not look up at the sky. Sasuke may be out of chakra, but Itachi doesn’t for a minute believe he could come so unprepared. No, Sasuke has something else up his sleeve. Itachi knows it.

A brightness in the sky catches his attention. He can no longer avoid it; he looks up. Lightning swirls around above him – Sasuke’s final jutsu. Itachi remains crouched low to the ground. Sasuke has found a way to guide the lightning. He lured Itachi outside to do this. Itachi wants to congratulate his brother on his aptitude, but he is too disheartened by his own failure. He feels like a domino waiting to be knocked over.

Itachi watches the lightning gather in the sky behind Sasuke. He is forming something – some kind of shape, a cloud – no, a dragon. Itachi’s eyes widen. He will be struck with it – this he knows. He is not quick enough to avoid a strike of lightning and he has such little chakra left.

He feels it sharply and he makes no move to catch his body as it falls. The smoke is thick around him, cloying as he breathes it into his lungs. He wants to cough again, but this time he lacks the strength, not the courage to. Instead, he remains face down against the stone, trying to ignore the pain in his entire body in favor of the acrid smell of burning flesh – the only other sense he is able to use at the moment.

He hears Sasuke groan. He must think it is over.

“Is this the death you had imagined for me?” Itachi asks. The words sear his throat as they leave, but he knows they are the last ones he will speak so he cannot avoid them.

Itachi pulls himself up to his feet slowly. He feels his bones cracking and popping, aching from this abuse he puts them through. He feels blood along his arms and his face, thick where it pools at his feet. He is weak now, lacking blood and chakra and the will to keep doing this. He is so close to death now – he can taste its coppery flavor on his tongue. He looks at Sasuke, drinking in the sight of him. This image will have to last him through death and eternity, he thinks, so he must memorize every line of Sasuke’s face.

Sasuke scowls at his words. His curse mark is coming back now. His hair is growing and the marked flames are tearing their way along his skin. He looks like the very personification of evil. It stands in stark contrast to the first time Itachi had ever laid eyes on his baby brother – a newborn swaddled in yellow cloth. He was perfection itself back then. Never could Itachi have imagined that angelic creature would turn into this – not without accepting his role in it.

There was something to be said for this, Itachi thinks, though he shouldn’t be letting his thoughts wander like this. Was there anything Itachi could have done differently to prevent this? Was Sasuke destined to become this monster? Had Madara been destined for that fate as well? Was it a curse to be born an Uchiha?

Sasuke curses and Itachi muses that Mikoto would surely have chided him for that had she been here. Itachi stands upright now. He has just enough chakra left for Susanoo and he will not waste it. He gathers his chakra and allows the skeletal form of his Susanoo to surround him. He will show Sasuke the true powers of his Sharingan.

He offers Sasuke a last chance to display whatever jutsu he could conjure with his lack of chakra. As the darkness of the sky fades and sunlight chinks through the clouds, Itachi weaves the muscles and the skin around his Susanoo, putting everything he has left into this final display of power.

Sasuke curses again. He has nothing left. He is at a dead end. He is wrestling with himself. He falls back to his knees. He is quivering. Itachi hardens his face because he cannot be seen looking down on him with pity.

His pity only grows when he sees the burst of Orochimaru’s jutsu snake its way out of Sasuke’s shoulder. Sasuke cries out again; Itachi knows the pain is unimaginable. Orochimaru’s chakra permeated the air and Itachi knew he could not allow it.

Fortunately, Itachi is able to make quick work of the serpents now floating over Sasuke protectively. His Susanoo’s flame blade is certainly strong enough to handle them. It is with great accomplishment that he watches the last serpent’s mouth open to reveal his real opponent here: Orochimaru.

He wants Sasuke’s body, just as he wanted Itachi’s. Itachi cannot allow that.

Itachi slashes at him with his sword. Orochimaru laughs, but he does not yet know that this is the Totsuka blade. He learns quickly as he is sucked into its sealing powers. Now Itachi can face Sasuke alone, without the snake summoner’s interference.

Sasuke trembles as the last of the curse mark is pulled out of him, sealed away in Itachi’s sword. He is better off without it.

They are both exhausted now. Sasuke cannot keep his Sharingan activated. Itachi is out of chakra. The burning in his lungs expounds – the air is too thin and smoky for him to breath. He is unable to hold it back – he coughs into his palm. He falls to his knees, his body wracked by coughs. He can feel his saliva and blood pooling into his hands. He does not want Sasuke to see him like this, but it is already too late.

But this is the end and he must persevere. His Susanoo is weakening, but he is still able to use his legs. He stands up, clutching his arm. He wipes his palm on his tunic. He takes two ambling steps toward Sasuke. He is so dizzy. He feels like he will fall over, but he keeps walking.

Each step takes immeasurable strength. Sasuke backs away from him – Itachi does not miss the horrified look on his face. He does not want to cause Sasuke anymore pain, but he needs this one last thing from him.

Sasuke throws a barrage of exploding tags toward him. Itachi is able to just block them with Susanoo, but he has to pause and catch his breath now. He fears he won’t be able to touch Sasuke one last time.

Again he stumbles forward. The steps are much harder to take now. He is in so much pain. Death has fisted its icy fingers around his heart already, but he will do this one last thing before he succumbs.

“Your eyes,” Itachi murmurs, “they are mine.” And in a way, they are. It is impossible not to see his own face reflected back at him when he stares into Sasuke’s eyes. They are brothers. They will always be brothers.

Sasuke’s vigor renewed, he pulls his sword from his back and attacks again. Itachi blocks it with Susanoo and Sasuke stumbles backwards again. He scrambles backwards as Itachi continues to approach. Itachi feels more like a terrorist now than in all the time he’d spent with Akatsuki. Sasuke pulls himself up against the stone behind him, pressing his back to it as he shrinks away.

Sasuke’s eyes are wide with horror and Itachi reaches his blood-drenched hand up to his face.

“Forgive me, Sasuke.”

Two fingers connect with Sasuke’s forehead. Itachi had always used this gesture to push Sasuke away, but it was not without affection that he did so. It seems fitting now to let this be the last thing to occur between them. The farthest he could ever push Sasuke away was to die.

He needs to cough again, but he represses it. He cannot suck in a last breath – his lungs will not allow it. He closes his eyes. His chakra is gone. Susanoo fades away behind him. He feels his body fall forward, his head colliding with the stone behind Sasuke. He is so close he can hear Sasuke’s sharp intake of breath.

It is the last thing he hears.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know if you guys think the present tense worked in this fic! I really enjoyed writing this way (even though it was a bitch to edit). I'm wondering how present tense would work in a romance setting - I think I could make it work maybe in my ShikaSaku story... Either way, let me know so I can write it the way guys want it. :)


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